


Won't Be Alone

by Tricksterburd



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterburd/pseuds/Tricksterburd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Photo receptors aren't eyes.  But for some reason Michael could swear he could see a sad fondness in the blue and green lights in Rabbit's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Song listened to during writing; Brass Goggles Dubstep found here: http://djavjr.tumblr.com/post/28442890818/so-i-tossed-the-live-version-of-brass-goggles-in  
> I don't own SPG.

Michael may be best friends with The Jon, but he always made it a point in his day to sit with Rabbit.

The Jon was energetic as all get out. At one hundred sixteen he still acted like a five year old, running around and getting into all sorts of trouble. There were rooms in the Manor dedicated to hula hoops, hopscotch, laser tag, even a huge foam quesadilla for him to have pretend horse adventures with. Michael spent a lot of time in these rooms, when he wasn’t fixing some other robot that made up the house’s residence, or writing music, or booking gigs. The simple fact was that The Jon was _fun_.

He had the ability to remind Mike that it didn’t matter how old he may be getting, you were never too old for an ice cream parade. Something that Mike had needed in the last few years after he had taken over for his father in maintaining the Walter Legacy with his own family’s Reed Legacy. They were mechanics, care takers of the robots that had done so much for their country and then were left to struggle in the unkind world of performance art.

And Mike had managed to rope Sam into playing around too. Sam didn’t exactly hula hoop or cartwheel, but he had fun dressing up with Jon, fetching him sandwiches that’ll never actually be eaten. Which lead Sam to becoming fond enough of Jon to take over his maintenance. A huge relief for Michael as time went on and all three of the robots needed more and more care.

And with Sam taking on the task of playing with Jon more, it brought Steve to realize that SOMEONE had to be the adult of the house, and would get Jon to help with chores. Turning it into a game helped, but more and more Steve was teaching him the importance of not getting underfoot and being useful in a way that didn’t hurt the ‘bots feelings.

No one had to worry about The Spine. The robot could entertain himself. He was, by far, the most mature of everyone in the house, even over Steve. Which surprised the sound engineer. But even with his stoic demeanor he would let go now and again and race Jon. Spine’s movements were bouncy, somewhat halting and less-than-human. But he could run, and jump (With legs like his, he could really get up off the ground) and have a grand old time with the youngest of the Walter robot brothers.

It had taken Mike about ten years to realize the problem. He had been two when he was introduced to the robots officially. He had always known them as “the ones that took care of him when Mommy and Daddy were busy.” But he never actually knew their names. After that, he and Jon had become attached at the hip.

Michael was twelve when he noticed how different the robots were from each other. Jon would run and jump and play at the drop of a hat. Spine would be more reserved but would join in. And Rabbit would humor everyone by being silly, but would sit on the sidelines for the most part.

It was just after Mike’s twelfth birthday that he started to notice just how much on the side Rabbit would sit. The birthday party was being held in Balboa, some kids from Michael’s school and been invited, and of course the robots were there. Jon was the center of attention over at the bounce house, which he had been taken out of three times already in the fear that he’d pop it with his sharp metal joints and heavy gold and brass weight. The Spine was entertaining a large group with short and somewhat silly (if dark) songs that resonated in such a low octave it was making the drink cups on the table shake, and acting out the various parts of the story. And Rabbit was sitting near him, singing along with Spine now and again.

“Rabbit?” Michael had torn himself away from a girl in a bandana to prod at the copper robot “Can you do Captain Albert Alexander for us?!”

“Shore sport, anything for ya!”

“Guys guys come on Rabbit’s going to do a story song!” All the kids gathered around as Jon hurried to his spot by Spine, grabbing up their instruments. Before too long the song was under way, and Rabbit was bouncing around like his youngest brother, miming the song with great enthusiasm. But after the song, while everyone started to beg for cake and gifts, Rabbit found a quiet shade under a tree a good distance away. Once Michael had finished opening his gifts he slipped away to bother Rabbit again. Why was Rabbit ignoring him on his day like this? Didn’t he like Mike?

Rabbit was slumped under the tree, steam hissing almost continually from the vent in his neck, eyes dim.

“Rabbit?”

The robot’s attention snapped up, smiling instantly in existence as he saw who was addressing him.

“Hey der Michael! Did ya get anything cool?”

“Yeah, Mom got me a banjo, and a Chrisy gave me a purple unicorn. Why didn’t you come over and watch?”

“I uh. I got a little hot during the dance and needed to cool down, that’s all. Hey, can I see what ya got?!”

“Sure.”

So Michael started to watch Rabbit closer. He watched how carefully he held himself on stage, how little he moved during songs even though Spine and Jon would shuffle around and bob and dance. Sure, Rabbit would swing his arms wildly and bend and dance on his toes, but he tended to stay in one spot when it wasn’t the Captain’s song. Spine would walk around the stage, Jon wouldn’t stop dancing, and Rabbit stuck by his microphone, only taking a few steps one way or the other to fetch a water bottle or kazoo.

At home, he never chased The Jon through the halls like Spine would do. Or when they were in a hurry he’d still walk at a measured pace. It took Michael another six years to ask about it.

“My knees aren’t what they used to be.” Rabbit had confessed after enough prodding. “If I move too fa-fa-fast or carelessly they’ll fall off.” It was the most serious the young Reed had ever seen him.

A year ago had been the biggest eye opener for Michael. They had just finished a show at the local theater; the audience was starting to thin out as the meet and greet wound down and the instruments were in their cases and packed in the vanbus. And Rabbit was outside, steam rising from his body in the cool air as he tried to cool down. He had to talk to Jon about the Rex Marksley song. Rabbit couldn’t dance for both Captain AND Rex, his boiler couldn’t take it and it should really be Jon’s song anyway. The ‘bot should know his steps by now; he didn’t need his older brother to cue him.

“Hey Rabbit.” Michael closed the backstage door softly behind him, shivering lightly under his purple tank top while the sweat evaporated off him. “You doing alright?”

“Oh shore shore Mista Reed! Just waitin’ for temps to drop yaknow?” Rabbit tapped his chest in explanation. Michael chuckled as he leaned against the bricks enjoying the breather. Neither of them noticed the shapes at the end of the alley.

“Hand over whatever you have, and the human won’t get hurt.” Michael’s arms shot up in surrender, taken by surprise at having a gun pushed into his head. Rabbit did the same, eyes shooting from the masked humans to his human. Michael moved slowly to retrieve his wallet, cell phone, and keys, wishing someone would open the doors right now and hit the mugger in the back. No one did. The thieves took their treasures and ran. Rabbit puffed out a cloud from his mouth, and took off after them. Now that Michael wasn’t directly threatened, what had he to lose? He ignored Mike’s call after him.

Rabbit ran. He didn’t run often, or at all. But this was important. They had threatened his Michael! So he ran, and caught up quickly, and tackled the gun wielding human first. He was the one that had almost hurt Mike, he had to be stopped. Rabbit’s weight had effectively winded the would-be thief, keeping him on the ground even as Rabbit reached for his accomplice and yanked him face first to the sidewalk as well.

When Michael caught up he realized exactly just what Rabbit meant when he said his knees weren’t what they used to be. He had actually followed the trail of mechanical parts that fell off Rabbit as he ran. And now, here on the ground, Rabbit didn’t pin the humans by choice.

His legs were barely more than a frame. Their joints weren’t connected to any form of power, his feet were kept on by meager wires, but his lopsided grin was huge.

“Got ‘em for ya Michael!”

So every day, while Spine would berate Jon for playing catch inside and Sam would be making sandwiches and Steve would be rocking the latest Megaman game, Michael would search the quiet places of the manor for Rabbit.

And he’s sit with him, often writing music with the eldest member of what had once been the Steam Man Band. Rabbit couldn’t keep up with Jon, or Spine, or Sam, or Steve, or Michael. So Michael made sure to slow down for Rabbit so he wouldn’t be so alone all the time.

And as time went on, as Rabbit started to grow slower and slower, as Captain Albert Alexander was cut from the set list because the robot’s boiler would overheat half way through, as the stutters become more common and the breakdowns during Honeybee would become more violent and last longer, Michael found himself making more time to just sit with Rabbit in silence. It was painful, to think of the chatty and easily distracted ‘bot as silent, but that’s what age did to a person. He had finally stopped resisting when Michael offered to update him and fix him.

But by that time, it had become too late to do anything to help. So Rabbit dwindled away day by day, smiling and humming to himself.

“Hey Michael! What ya get for ya birfday huh?”

“Mom gave me a banjo, and Chrissy gave me a purple unicorn.”

“Ah, dat’s great! You like those unicorns huh?”

“Sure do Rabbit.”

“I had a pegicorn once. That was afore you was born though.”

“That so? Tell me about it.”

This was the same conversation he had yesterday. And the day before. But Michael never got tired of it. Sure, the same topic every day could become boring, but every day it became new for Rabbit, who no longer remembered anything from the last fifteen to twenty years. Rabbit rarely came out of the music room anymore, preferring to sit and enjoy music that he could recall rather than wreck his failing mechanics with all the steps and stairs. And Michael swore that when he came in the room, Rabbit’s whole being would light up. Photo receptors aren't eyes. But for some reason Michael could swear he could see a sad fondness in the blue and green lights in Rabbit's face every time the human would ask him a question about himself.

Michael knew Rabbit wouldn’t have much longer. But that was okay. Because Michael would be there when Rabbit finally shut down for good. Rabbit would not be alone.


End file.
